"I have been staying near here," Wrayson said, "and my letters have not been forwarded."
He bent a little lower over the table. The perfume of violet scent was almost unbearable, but he did not flinch.
"You had some news for me?" he asked eagerly.
"Yes!" she answered. "I'm not going to tell you now. We are going to sit outside after dinner. You must come to us there. No good having smart friends unless you make use of them," she added, with a shrill little laugh.
"I shall take some chairs and order coffee," Wrayson said. "In the meantime——?"
"If you like to order us a bottle of champagne and tell the waiter to put it on your bill, we shan't be offended," Blanche declared. "We were just wondering whether we could run to it."
"You must do me the honour of being my guests for dinner also," Wrayson declared, calling a waiter. "It was very good of you to remember to write."
The friend murmured something about it being very kind of the gentleman. Blanche shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh! I remember right enough," she said. "It wasn't that. But there, wait until I've told you about it. It's an odd story, and sometimes I wish I'd never had anything to do with it. I get a cold shiver every time I think of that old man who took me to dine at Luigi's. Outside in three-quarters of an hour, then!"
"I will keep some chairs and order coffee," Wrayson said, turning away.
"And bring one of your friends," Blanche added. "It won't do him any harm. We sha'n't bite him!"
"I will bring them both," Wrayson promised.
